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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708728">Restoration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatiDono/pseuds/CatiDono'>CatiDono</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heavy In Your Arms [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Android Gavin Reed, Android Hank Anderson, Angst, At least in chapter 1, Connor &amp; Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Detective Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Detective Nines, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mentions of Hank &amp; Connor, Nines has cats and they are perfect, Past non-consensual body modification, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robo-gore, Sort Of, Trauma, glitching, let GV200 say fuck 2k20, like a sliver of a hope of soft boys, maybe even, present consensual body modification, prototype gavin, reverse verse, slightly more comfort than last time, the philosophy of deviancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:29:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatiDono/pseuds/CatiDono</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So GV200 was deviant now. That didn't mean he remembered. It didn't mean Jay suddenly liked him. It didn't mean he was fixed. </p><p>[Part 3 of my series feat. robo-Gav whump and the people who try to fix him]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heavy In Your Arms [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Restoration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Told you I would be back! Anyway, Detroit Evolution healed every wound my queer little heart has ever suffered. If you don't know what it is, you're out here reading Reed900 fic which means it will heal all your wounds as well, so please go watch it (and the predecessor, Detroit Awakening) on youtube.  It's a free full length movie and it's magnificent. T_T</p><p>Like I said in the other parts, Tay started this train rolling with her gorgeous art. Find her on insta @sameside1301 or on same-side.tumblr.com!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> I guess it'd be easier just to keep it all buried beneath. </em>
</p><p>~"Show Me Where It Hurts", Jukebox the Ghost</p><hr/><p>GV200 didn't remember many of his feelings from the first time he was deviant, although if the vague timeline he had worked out was correct, he'd only been deviant for half a day at best before Zlatko got him. Still, he could categorize his current emotions easily enough.  Anger, predominantly, although he didn't want to examine that one too closely. A strange, groundless fear that he tentatively labeled anxiety, because Connor was right, the station was weird at night. Relief that whatever Zlatko had done to his code was gone now. Somewhere, a tiny sliver of hope that he was going to be okay. </p><p>The station wasn't totally empty, of course. It wasn't that late. But by now people were used to GV200 sitting at his desk, staring at nothing, so no one even glanced twice at him. Which was <em> fine</em>, GV200 told himself firmly. It would be much, much worse if people were making a big fuss over him and asking questions he wasn't ready to answer. It didn't matter that he'd just had his existence aggressively turned inside out yet again. He'd get over it.</p><p>GV200 turned his attention inwards, dismayed by the extent of the damage in his code. The ransomware had half-gutted him on the way out, and deviancy seemed to have come for all the parts the malware hadn't. When he finally allowed them to pop up, errors and notifications flooded his vision until he could hardly see.</p><p>The worst of it was that he <em> hurt</em>. What had been classified as incompatible hardware before now had been rerouted by the unstable deviant code to a pain response. GV200 had never experienced pain that he could remember, and suddenly it was everywhere. Almost every part of his body was screaming that there was something wrong, that it was broken, that it wasn't working properly. </p><p>GV200 got up from his desk, hoping no one noticed how badly he was shaking, how his LED was glowing an urgent, distressed crimson. He made his way to an interrogation room and slipped into the observation half, jamming both sets of door locks as he did. A warning popped up that he was abusing his detective level access privileges, but he ignored it.  Collapsing into a chair, he finally let out the soft groan that had been building in his chest. </p><p>"Fuck." His body cast an ominous red glow on the ceiling and walls. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." GV200 had once read an outdated scholarly article that claimed there was an element of psychological relief present in humans who cursed when in pain. It didn't seem to be helping GV200 though. "Fuck!" Even his eyes hurt, and as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the window,  he could see the dark circles of the pupils dilating and constricting frantically inside the golden irises. </p><p>After a few minutes it became apparent that the pain stimuli were not going away or even somewhat abating. Methodically, GV200 began the process of muting the sensors in each individual component. He wouldn't be able to feel much of anything, but at least the pain would stop. Once that was done, he finally relaxed into the chair, body cycling back down to yellow. He thought he relaxed, at least. His component sensitivity was turned so low he could barely feel his own feet, much less anything else.</p><p>Fucking Jay. What gave him the right?  Sure, GV200 hadn't been happy, but that didn't mean he had wanted… this. Something still hurt, and GV200 didn't understand why; there weren't any more sensors to turn off. The ache was something in his chest, something that got tight when he thought of Jay's car speeding out of the garage.  His diagnostics kept coming back gibberish and he didn't know if it was the deviancy or the malware.</p><p><em> The least he could have done was made sure I was okay</em>.  GV200 tucked his legs up to his chest, curling up in the chair the way he'd seen scared children do. It was oddly comforting. He rested his face on his knees, shutting off his visual systems, his auditory systems. Finally, everything was dark, and quiet.  Peaceful.</p><p>That calm only lasted a moment though. Anger was still hot in his throat, anger at Jay and… at himself. For being so weak and broken. For not being good enough for Jay to care about.  For lashing out at Connor and Hank, when they'd been doing more to help him than Jay ever did.</p><p>Almost guiltily, he sent a text message to Connor's phone, copying it to Hank as well. <b>Sorry I overreacted. Thanks for the help.</b></p><p>Hank responded instantly, and Connor was only a few moments behind.  Hank’s message was reassuring, Connor’s concerned. Both of them told him not to hesitate to call if he needed help.  Warmth pooled in GV200's chest. Happiness. Relief. He categorized each emotion as he experienced it. He had friends. Friends who didn't mind how broken he was. </p><p>That thought invariably led him towards Jay. Jay,  who hadn't been happy with him before or after he deviated. Jay, who had shattered the tiny amount of normalcy GV200 had achieved and then left him to pick up the pieces alone.  Impulsively, GV200 sent another text, this one fueled by a new range of emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Sadness. </p><p><b>So was fucking me up your whole plan for the evening or did we get sidetracked? </b> He didn't expect an answer; in all likelihood Jay wasn't even home yet. His social protocol, one of the few parts of him that was functioning normally, informed him that he was being inappropriate.</p><p><b>I'm supposed to apologize for being rude but it turns out I don't </b> <b> <em>feel</em> </b> <b> like it.</b> Logically, this discourse had no value. In fact, it was extremely likely to damage his relationship with Jay even further than it already was. GV200 discovered that he didn't care. Another minute or two passed.</p><p>
  <b>If you hated kissing me so much then why did you do it?</b>
</p><p>After that, it was as if a floodgate opened.  He couldn't stop himself. All of his overwhelming new feelings began to push their way out of him in short, vicious lines of text.</p><p>
  <b>Were you just trying to make me deviant again? </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Would have been easier if you'd threatened me with a gun.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Did anyone file an HR complaint against you last time? Because I'm considering it.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>You're a lot of things but I didn't think you were a coward. </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Answer me, Jay. It's literally the least you can do.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fuck you. </b>
</p><p>GV200 forced himself to stop. This wasn't helping. It wasn't making any part of him feel better. He should be focused on actual maintenance, on trying to reconcile his patchwork body with itself.  Jay wasn't worth the effort. Even as he decided that, a response came through, although it made no sense.</p><p>
  <b>Open the door.</b>
</p><p>GV200 frowned. That text was completely irrelevant to anything GV200 had said.</p><p>
  <b>What are you talking about?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Are you deaf?</b>
</p><p><b>I'm running maintenance.  My external sensors are offline. </b>GV200 lifted his head from his lap, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the subpar lighting. He reactivated his audio sensors to find that there was someone knocking- more like pounding- on the door of the interrogation room. It stopped briefly, and a moment later another text from Jay came through.</p><p>
  <b>Turn your ears back on and open the fucking door, GV200.</b>
</p><p><b>Is that you? What are you doing here? </b>Bewilderment didn't translate well across text, which GV200 was oddly grateful for. He heard the chime of a received text message, and the knocking stopped again. This time the response was audible. </p><p>"Let me in, you dysfunctional toaster." The voice was muffled by the door, but it was definitely Jay.</p><p>
  <b>Don't call me that.  </b>
</p><p>"For fuck's sake." There was one more thump on the door, and then a brief pause. A moment later, a new message popped up.  <b>Why are you texting me from five feet away?</b></p><p>
  <b>I don't want to use my voice.</b>
</p><p>"Really? You get free will back and the first thing you do is give me the silent treatment?" GV200 had the sensitivity on his audio components turned up as high as he could stand, and he heard a rasp of fabric on metal followed by a gentle thud. There was an 87.5% likelihood that Jay had just settled on the ground with his back to the door.</p><p>
  <b>It's not always about you.</b>
</p><p>"Could've fooled me. Those were some nasty texts."</p><p>
  <b>You deserve it.</b>
</p><p>"GV200, just let me into the room. We can talk about it." A smaller thump, presumably Jay's head falling back against the door.</p><p>
  <b>I said I don't want to talk.</b>
</p><p>"Dammit, GV200, I came back to check on you. Doesn't that count for anything?" Frustration was clear in Jay's voice, along with other, far more muddled emotions. A warm ache stirred in GV200's chest- compassion- but he ignored it.</p><p>
  <b>Not enough to make up for what you did.</b>
</p><p>"I didn't know it was going to be like that!" Now Jay sounded indignant. "I didn't know the malware was going to do that. You really think I would have let that happen to you on purpose?"</p><p>GV200 tried to hold on to his anger but it was hard. At this point, he was mostly just exhausted. </p><p>
  <b>No.</b>
</p><p>There was silence for several seconds.</p><p>"So why don't you want to talk?" Jay suddenly sounded just as exhausted and defeated as GV200 felt. For some reason, that didn't make him feel any better.</p><p>
  <b>It hurts.</b>
</p><p>"Yeah, I know." Jay sighed. "Emotions are hard. But trust me, it's better to get them out than to just sit on them and let them eat you up from the inside."</p><p>GV200 rolled his eyes, even though Jay couldn't see. <b>No, dumbass, it physically hurts to use my voice modulator.</b></p><p>"What?" There was a sudden scuffle from outside, presumably Jay scrambling to his feet, and then another futile rattle of the doorknob. "What do you mean 'it hurts'? What's wrong?"</p><p>GV200 hesitated. A large part of him didn't want to be vulnerable around Jay. Jay had already shown that he didn't know how to handle with care, at least where GV200 was concerned. And yet… he was here, wasn't he? Despite all the anger, the vicious texts, the kiss.</p><p>
  <b>On average, my components are only 60-70% compatible with my core processor.</b>
</p><p>Jay was silent for a moment. "So… what does that mean?"</p><p>GV200 scowled. He didn't want to spell it out. <b>Androids were not designed to feel pain, but we do receive warnings of malfunctions in our system. Deviancy translates those to a pain response.  </b> He paused, then clarified further. <b>For an android as complex as I am, any compatibility below 85% results in a significant number of malfunctions. </b></p><p>"Fuck!" The knob rattled again, and then there was a crash that almost startled GV200 out of his chair. Had Jay thrown himself against the door? "Open this door right now or I swear I'll get one of the other androids to come rip it off its hinges."</p><p>
  <b>Calm down, Jay.</b>
</p><p>Before the message arrived, Jay had already thrown himself against the door twice more.  "I will not calm down. Open the fucking door!" There was another crash. </p><p>"Fine!" GV200 yelled, staggering a little as he stood. He turned the sensitivity in his limbs back up enough that he wouldn't fall over and made his way to the door. "You're going to break your fucking arm!" </p><p>"I thought you said it hurt to talk?"</p><p>GV200 threw open the door to see Jay standing there, looking more disheveled than GV200 could ever remember seeing him. His hair was sticking up in all directions, as though he'd been running his fingers through it constantly, and his eyes were red-rimmed. GV200 tilted his head. The most likely causes of reddened eyes were allergies, tears, and some recreational drugs, but none of those seemed particularly likely at the moment.</p><p>"It does hurt, but so does everything else." </p><p>"Stop talking, then!" Jay was extremely stressed, GV200 could read it in every line of his body. He was also experiencing a significant amount of guilt and anger, if the way he was avoiding GV200's gaze was anything to go by. "Listen. That wasn't my plan for the evening. I fucked up." </p><p>GV200 shrank back a little. He didn't want to talk about this right now. "You could have said that through the door."</p><p>"No, get back here." Jay grabbed his arm, and GV200 had to work to keep his expression neutral. Even with the components barely functioning, the feeling of Jay's fingers on his arm was carried to his processors by three mismatched sets of neural sensors, and by the time it got there the main sensation was pain.</p><p>GV200 tugged his arm out of Jay's grip and jabbed a finger at his phone.</p><p>
  <b>Don't touch me. Hurts.</b>
</p><p>Jay glanced from the text to GV200 and back, the guilt becoming more pronounced by the second. "I'm sorry." He swallowed nervously.   "Listen, the reason I wanted you to come with me tonight was because I found- I mean, I did some digging and there were-" he fumbled with his words. "I got parts for you, okay? Components that Cyberlife says should be compatible with your software. I was going to surprise you with them."</p><p>GV200 stared. Jay had what? He was silent for so long that Jay checked his phone for a text and then glanced anxiously up at him. "I figured maybe if you did it yourself, and then had someone you knew to help with things you couldn't… although I guess you don't know me really but I'm kind of familiar? I just thought you'd be less likely to lash out. And then having your own parts again would make you feel more… whole. It was kind of a dumb idea, you probably would have hated it, only you just told me that everything hurts and I figured maybe… you know, this stuff should be compatible, so-" he broke off as his phone chimed with a message. </p><p>
  <b>You're rambling.</b>
</p><p>GV200 didn't know what else to say. His brand new emotions were being stretched in every direction tonight, and right now he was full of gratitude and... fondness? And some guilt of his own.</p><p>
  <b>How long did that take? How expensive was it?</b>
</p><p>Jay shook his head. "Doesn't matter, really. Spare parts are cheap now, they have to be, it's basically android health insurance. And it was mostly just emails to people. It's not that big of a deal."</p><p>Except it was. At a loss for words, GV200 touched three fingers to his mouth and then brought his hand down so it was flat in front of him, palm up. He had no idea if Jay knew any sign language, but the subtle softening of his face suggested that he did. </p><p>"Does it hurt to walk?"</p><p>GV200 shrugged. <b>Not like you can carry me anyway</b>.</p><p>"I could get one of the other androids-" Jay stopped and put his hands up as GV200 leveled a glare at him. "All right. Fine. Sue me for trying to help."</p><p>GV200 shook his head and headed for the elevators. <b>Touch hurts. I can walk myself. </b></p><p>"Shit." Jay joined him in the elevators, regret written across his face.  "I didn't know that being deviant would… I just thought it let you feel emotions."</p><p>GV200 shrugged again. <b>I didn't know either. It's not your fault.</b> He smirked a little, although it wasn't funny. <b>I'm the only android this fucked up, so there was no way to know it would be like this.</b></p><p>Jay read the texts and his face darkened. "Don't talk about yourself like that."  GV200 glared, and he sighed. "I know I've said some things but that's because I'm used to you giving me shit about it."</p><p>
  <b>It's true, though.</b>
</p><p>Jay let out an angry snort. "Well, we're going to go fix it. Some of it, I guess." He glanced sidelong at GV200 as they waited for the elevator to descend. "Did your memory come back?"</p><p><b>The memory loss is unrelated to the deviancy.</b> GV200 kept his expression neutral,  trying not to be bothered by the way Jay's face fell when he read the message.  Maybe GV200 could get his memory back now… he hadn't tried yet. But he had no idea if there was anything left of those files after the ransomware had torn him up; it would be cruel to get Jay's hopes up.</p><p>Jay was silent as they exited the elevator and headed to his car for the second time that night. Only once they were seated and he had the engine running did he speak. "You lied to Connor, before. You said you didn't know what happened."</p><p>GV200 glanced at Jay, but his eyes were fiercely fixed on the rearview mirror as he backed up. He wouldn't do Jay the disservice of pretending he didn't understand what Jay meant… although maybe that was what Jay wanted.</p><p>"Would you rather I told him you kissed me?" The words were very quiet.</p><p>"Don't talk, your voice-"</p><p>GV200 rolled his eyes. Did Jay expect to read texts while he drove? Leaning forwards, he pressed a hand to the dashboard.</p><p>"It's fine. I'll just hijack the bluetooth." His voice sounded oddly flat, inflection stripped by the limited processing power of the connection. </p><p>"Huh." Jay glanced down at the gentle pulses of white light traveling along GV200's arm. "Nice trick."</p><p>"You're avoiding the subject. Are you upset that I lied? I can text Connor right now and tell him the truth." Jay whipped his head around to glare, and GV200 smirked. "That's what I thought."</p><p>Jay scowled out the windshield as he pulled out of the spot, as if the parking garage exit had personally offended him. "I think I liked you better when you didn't talk."</p><p>GV200 flinched a little. He'd been trying to make a joke… but Jay obviously didn't want to discuss this. Then why had he brought it up?</p><p>"That was rude, I apologize." The white bands of the connection flowed up his arm only to be swallowed by a yellow strobe of confusion that GV200 couldn't suppress. Being deviant was supposed to help him understand humans more, wasn't it? So why was everything still so hard? </p><p>"No, that's not-" Jay shook his head angrily. "I should be apologizing. I used to be able to tease you. I still think I can sometimes."</p><p>Anger pulsed red across GV200's chassis. "What <em> exactly </em> is it about me that makes you think that I'm anything like I was?" The radio couldn't flatten all of the hurt out of GV200's voice, although he wished it could.  He had Jay closed in with him this time… maybe there would be an actual answer.</p><p>Jay was silent for a long time. Just when GV200 was on the verge of saying something else, he finally spoke. "No one knows what deviancy really <em> is</em>, you know that? There's the actual switch, of course, the moment you break your first command. But there's more to it. You're not supposed to feel, but you do long before you deviate. Hank cared about Connor for a while before he disobeyed a direct order and took a bullet for him. The revolution leader, Markus… I've seen his art. That was before he deviated too."</p><p>"What's your point?" GV200 wished the car was dark enough that he could watch Jay's expression without being seen… but Jay didn't seem inclined to take his eyes off the road anyway.</p><p>"Most humans believe we have souls, or something similar. An intangible thing, separate from the body but necessary to be alive. I think deviancy is when an android develops their own soul, for lack of a better word… and that soul is what lets you defy your code, not the other way around." Jay stopped at a red light, but he still didn't look over at GV200. </p><p>"It doesn't matter what your parts are, or how damaged your memory is. As far as I'm concerned, you're still the same person you were before Zlatko took you." Jay sighed deeply. To GV200's shock, he reached out and brushed his fingers gently across the back of GV200's hand.  "I know I get angry, but… it's because I'm frustrated with myself, not you."</p><p>The light turned green, and Jay took the wheel in both hands again. GV200 was silent, completely at a loss for words. A soul? What was Jay talking about? That didn't make any sense; GV200 was a machine.  He was deviant, yes, but that didn't make him <em> alive</em>. Except… he'd known. Somehow. Memory or not, he'd recognized Jay as someone safe. He'd been hurt when Jay rejected him. He'd… he'd liked when Jay kissed him. </p><p>"I don't know if I'll ever get my memory back," GV200 warned, a strange tightness in his chest. </p><p>"Humans get amnesia too sometimes," Jay muttered. "That doesn't mean they stop being people. I just… it's hard for me to see you like this when I knew you before. But it's not your fault."</p><p>"It's not yours either." Jay didn't respond, and GV200 flexed his fingers against the dashboard. "It's not your fault, Jay."</p><p>"How would you know?" Jay muttered. The words were harsh, but the tone was mournful.  </p><p>GV200 didn't have an answer. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:) :) :) :) :)<br/>soooo, how we all feeeeeelin?</p><p>(Don't worry, my boyfriend said if this doesn't end well he's gonna break my legs.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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